FIreworks

Today as I was loading the dishwasher. My mom handed me a metal water bottle and asked me to open it because she couldn't. I tried to open it with my manly super-human strength but just couldn't seem to make it budge. So I got out the pliers and started to ease open the cap. As I began to turn it the disgusting fluid began to leak out. (We later discovered that it was milk....that had been in there for who knows how long) the cap was nearly off and the liquid was still spraying everywhere (it smelt awful) and then to my surprise the bottle disappeared completely from my sight. I dropped to the ground screaming in pain covered in rotten milk. Judging by the volume of the explosion. I was worried that the metal had exploded and I would now be imbedded with shrapnel for the rest of my life, and then to confirm my suspicions the feeling in my hand began to come back, and I just couldn't believe how bad it was hurting. With the bottle nowhere to be found. I scanned the room hoping that the homemade handheld rocket had not injured anyone or damaged anything (I told my mom that Its dangerous when I load the dishwasher and that she should delegate elsewhere, but this morning she was determined. I was in shock when I noticed the distance to which the rocket had traveled. It was not only no longer in the kitchen, but in the other end of the family room. I began to walk from one end of the room to the other when I notice it was only inches from damaging my fathers new 4 color led television. With my hand becoming more swollen and the shrapnel now moving toward my pride. I picked up the bottle and returned it to the dishwasher. As if the awful smell of rotten milk all over the kitchen wasn't bad enough. In the back of my mind I replayed the event over and over, and something didn't add up. Judging by the sounds there were two dents that still had to be accounted for. Then out of the corner of my eye. I saw it. I happily walked out of the kitchen and downstairs enjoying the fact that nothing was broken or damaged. It was then that my mother began to scream my name. I rushed upstairs and entered the kitchen where my mother was motionless as she was shocked. Pointing at the sealing I saw the gaping dent that it had made before it had even left the kitchen. Then was the blow to the couch pillow that was not as severe. I then realized that the rocket must have left my hand at an alarming rate. Hit the sealing, hit the couch, and then landed safely in the other side of the room. I think it is safe to say that injury would have been met if any had dared stand in its path. Haha oh how I love the crazy things that happen to me